Things Change
by Stretch1
Summary: A month after the strike, the lives of New York workers are evolving. Can Specs cope with the impact it has on the life he has made for himself?
1. Introduction

Title: don't know yet (have any ideas?)  
  
Characters: Specs mainly, but many of the newsies make appearances,   
Bumlets, Dutchy, Snoddy, Skittery, and Racetrack just to name a few.   
No new newsies, didn't feel like making any new ones up. Nor did I   
feel like putting myself in the story. I will put that off until   
later.  
  
Rating: no more than PG. I didnt feel like getting too offensive,   
you will know when I do!  
  
Disclaimer: I own Disney...I mean...kidding. (bad joke, I know) I   
don't own Newsies, nor any of the characters involved in the   
movie...although specs is hiding in my closet, does that count? :) I   
don't own Disney, and I certainly don't own anything of value. Don't   
sue me, I am not worth your time or money (hurray for high self-  
esteem!)  
  
on to the show!  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
He looked out into the smoke and nothingness that filled the New   
York sky. Placing his hand in his pocket, the young newsie took out   
a gold pocket watch, glittering in the light of the moon. Upon   
opening it, he realized it was well past midnight.  
  
"Fun," he thought to himself sarcastically. In a few hours,   
Kloppman, the kind elderly man that ran the lodging house would be   
waking them up to go to work. He couldn't see how he would last on   
those summer streets for even an hour with the small amount of sleep   
he had.  
  
Clicking the watch closed, he noticed his friend and bunk mate above   
him stirring. Specs sat there in silence, making sure Bumlets was   
asleep before he moved another muscle. Just because he couldn't   
sleep, why should he disturb his friends?   
  
Whenever one of them did wake up to see him staring out the window,   
they would either pass it off as nothing and go back to sleep, or   
ask him what was wrong if they were awake enough to form the words.   
Usually his reply was simply, "Nothin'. Just can't sleep is all."  
  
When he knew that Bumlets hadn't been disturbed, he went back to   
looking out the window, out into the smoky sky of early industrial   
Manhattan. After a while, he decided to slip back in bed, trying to   
get a few hours of sleep in before Kloppman woke them up at dawn.   
  
Placing his famous glasses on the table beside him along with his   
black derby hat, he lay there, rubbing the etched initials of his   
watch sitting in his hand. The letter were slightly faded after   
years of use, but you could still plainly see "C.P." on the front.  
  
Closing his eyes, his thumb still rubbing his hands along the   
letters of the watch, as he quietly whispered a cherished yet   
painful word for him.  
  
"Dad," had barely escaped his mouth before he passed out on the thin   
mattress underneath him.  



	2. Signs of Change

Title: Things Change (indeed they do)  
  
Characters: Specs mainly, but many of the newsies make appearances,   
Bumlets, Dutchy, Snoddy, Skittery, and Racetrack just to name a few.   
No new newsies, didn't feel like making any new ones up. Nor did I   
feel like putting myself in the story. I will put that off until   
later.  
  
Rating: no more than PG. I didn't feel like getting too offensive,   
you will know when I do!  
  
Disclaimer: I own Disney...I mean...kidding. (bad joke, I know) I   
don't own Newsies, nor any of the characters involved in the   
movie...although specs is hiding in my closet, does that count? :) I   
don't own Disney, and I certainly don't own anything of value. Don't   
sue me, I am not worth your time or money (hurray for high self-  
esteem!)  
  
back to the show!  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
"GET UP," came a familiar voice from across the room. "Poifect   
timing, Kloppman," Specs thought in a sarcastic tone. The lack of   
sleep was making his head spin and he wasn't ready for a new day.   
However, after much harassment from Kloppman, and after Skittery   
threw his derby at his face, Specs decided it best to get up before   
the entire lodging house started to attack him.  
  
Placing his glasses back on the bridge of his nose, he began   
slipping his battered clothing on over his used-to-be-white shirt   
and his worn brown pants. With the final touches of his hat, boots,   
and pocket watch, Specs pushed and shoved his way to the bathroom   
and finally downstairs. After saying a brief good-bye to Kloppman,   
he headed off with his fellow newsies to the distribution center.   
  
It was hard to believe that just last month they had led a strike   
against Pulitzer and Hearst with the rest of the newsies from around   
New York. It was one of the things you don't quite believe, even   
with witnesses and newspaper articles to back it up. Things had   
pretty much gone back to normal after that. The papers were still   
sixty cents per hundred papers, but they no longer had to "eat them   
after" if they weren't all sold, being able to sell them back after   
the day was done.   
  
The time between July and August was the worst for the newsboys, at   
least until winter hit. "One day at a time," Specs thought to   
himself before asking Weasel for 75 papers. It amazed Specs at how   
Weasel and the Delancys were able to get their jobs back.  
  
"You'se comin'?" Bumlets was behind him, and nearly gave him a heart   
attack. "Or are ya just gonna stand there all day?"   
  
"Yeah, I'm comin'. Was just thinkin',"  
  
"Thinkin'? Didn't know you did that no more," Bumlets said, smiling   
at his friend.  
  
"You wanna eat those woids?" Specs couldn't help it. He cracked a   
smile and followed Bumlets to their usual spot, Dutchy, Snoddy, and   
Skittery not far behind. It was better for them all to sell   
together. They split their money pretty evenly, so that if one   
didn't do so well he wouldn't have to sleep on the street that   
night. They spread out along the street and started yelling   
headlines. Some true, some false, whatever worked.   
  
By the time noon hit, half of their papers were sold and the intense   
heat and profuse sweating caused many people to either shoot looks   
of disgust their way or give them looks of sympathy. They received   
better tips in the afternoon as people began to feel more and more   
sorry for them.  
  
They were all sold by five and this allowed the boys to join up for   
a small dinner at Tibby's with the small profit they could use to   
feed themselves.   
  
"I'll meet you'se there," Specs said to the others. They didn't ask   
questions, partially because they knew they wouldn't get an answer   
and partly because they were too tired and starving to care.   
  
He walked down the streets he knew so well, former selling spots and   
places he had been kicked out of for his appearance. Okay, so he was   
a bit dirty, and the smell of sweat and smoke wasn't too alluring,   
but he was just as good as anyone. Or, at least he tried to convince   
himself. Finally, he reached his destination: a textile mill on the   
other side of town.   
  
"They should be out by now," he thought to himself. Specs silently   
began to panic as he always did whenever they were late. He then   
caught sight of three girls exiting the building, dirt covering   
their faces and their hair put up so it wouldn't get caught in the   
machines.  
  
"I was beginnin' ta get worried," he said, picking up the youngest   
one and hugging the other two with his free arm.   
  
"That's because you're too protective and paranoid," came the middle   
one. She was a little less than five feet tall and had dark brown   
hair to match her eyes.   
  
"Brothas is supposed to be, ain't they? Besides, where did ya learn   
those woids?" he retorted, smiling at his younger sister.  
  
"You," she said simply, smiling.   
  
All three girls were slightly taller than most people their ages,   
yet were quite thin, and they all had big mouths which gave away the   
fact that they were related to Specs when the other newsies first   
set eyes on them. The youngest one, fighting sleep while in her   
brother's arms, was six years old. She was forced to go to work with   
her sisters or go to an orphanage after what happened. Miette   
refused to go anywhere without her siblings, and therefore decided   
to work with her older sisters and live with them in a nearby girls   
lodging house.  
  
The middle had just turned 9, yet had the intelligence of someone   
twice her age. Specs believed it came from a mix of living on the   
street and having older siblings that could educate her. Naeva too   
had decided she would rather work a sixteen hour day than go to an   
orphanage, wasting away without family to comfort her.   
  
Finally, the oldest was 19, two years older than the brother that   
stood before her. Anja looked deprived of food and exhausted, yet   
still had a fire in her eyes that made her look determined and   
strong. She had to be in order to work so hard and still keep tabs   
on her younger sisters.   
  
Specs desperately missed living in the same house as them. He missed   
the chaos of when Miette was having a tantrum, he missed hearing   
Naeva's smart mouth every five seconds, and he missed Anja's matter-  
of-fact voice she always gave him when she was right and he was   
wrong, which happened quite often.   
  
"Mi...I mean Specs, do you mind walking me and the girls to the   
lodging house? I have to talk to you." He nodded his head and they   
went on their way. By the time they had gotten to the nearly   
dilapidated building right outside of Manhattan, it was seven and   
the sun had started to set. Putting Miette to bed and leaving Naeva   
in the bunkroom with the other girls, Specs and his older sister   
went up on the roof.   
  
"Ever since that stunt you and the boys pulled on Pulitzer, people   
all over have been setting up unions, which is great, but..."  
  
"But what?" he asked, slightly confused and worried as to where she   
was going with it.  
  
"Our mill is in the process of becoming part of a union, and part of   
the limitations that the union has decided to put up is that none of   
the workers be under the age of eleven. They feel it is too   
dangerous for small children to work the machinery," she said,   
waiting to see how Specs would take it.  
  
"That's great! The otha goils won't have ta worry about gettin'   
they'se arm chopped off or hair pulled out...whatsa matta?" he   
noticed a sort of irritated look she got whenever he said or did   
something stupid.   
  
"First, speak in the voice your mother, father, and God gave you. You have no   
need to impress me. Miette and Naeva may think it's cute, but it   
starts to get on my nerves after a while. Second, think! What   
happens when your sisters are no longer able to work and they have   
nowhere else to go? You got it now?" her perturbed voice stinging   
him slightly.   
  
"Sorry," he said sheepishly, "and don't worry about it Anja, we'll   
figure it out. I have to go, I have been late for curfew the last   
few nights and I am in no mood to listen to Kloppman or any of the   
others give me any grief. I'll see you later"  
  
Noticing the hurt in her brother's voice, Anja decided she didn't   
want to leave on bad terms. "Sorry I snapped at you, it was a long   
day, and I know you get used to the way your friends are. I'll see   
you later, alright?" he nodded and turned ready to leave when she   
gave him the only good news he had heard all day. "Anton ran into me   
the other day, literally. I was walking around Brooklyn, saw a few   
of your friends, and he ran straight into me on his way to the   
lumber yard. He wanted to make sure you were alright, with all this   
strike talk he got kind of upset about his little brother being in   
the middle of it." He laughed, said his good-byes, and left.  
  
It had been a while since he had seen his older brother, but both   
were busy and couldn't help it. Besides, he was all the way in   
Brooklyn and every time Anton saw him over there he told him to go   
back to Manhattan, that it was dangerous.   
  
He walked slowly along the streets of the city. He admired Manhattan   
when the sun was down and the noise had all but silenced. He took   
out his watch and glanced at the words etched inside the front   
cover, "Cian and Ani forever" with a picture of his mother and   
father at their wedding day. He didn't remember his mother, she died   
in childbirth with him. His father didn't place any blame on him at   
all as he grew up, knowing that women were always at risk when in   
childbirth. Eventually his father married a woman, fresh from France   
and kind to Specs and his older siblings. She gave Cian two   
daughters and five happy years before Tuberculosis took her life.   
  
Cian never remarried, and even if he had wanted to he didn't have   
time. Cian Patrick died four months later of pneumonia, leaving   
Naeva and Miette to live with a sister of their mother's and Specs   
and his older siblings to live in orphanages scattered around New   
York.  
  
He closed the pocket watch and continued walking until he was inside   
the familiar bunkroom, the sounds of racetrack complaining about the   
afternoon's races and Snipeshooter and Snoddy in a fight filled the   
air. This had become comforting to Specs after he ran away from the   
cruel orphanage he had been sent to. He was eleven and he grew more   
in that year than any other of his young life. Going from a boy with   
a perfectly happy family life to a deprived and degrading life on   
the streets changed him completely. Yet, he still had a small soft   
spot that just wouldn't go away, probably because of his younger   
sisters.   
  
Specs went to bed feeling cursed, dirty, and confused. Why him? Why   
did his mother die before he got the chance to meet her? Why did his   
step-mother leave when he was starting to get comfortable, and why   
did his father have to pass away and make everything in his life go   
rock bottom? Most of all, how was he going to keep his younger   
sisters from experiencing the same pain of living in an orphanage   
that he had run away from? 


	3. We Have A Problem

Title: Things Change  
  
Characters: Specs mainly, but many of the newsies make appearances,   
Bumlets, Dutchy, Snoddy, Skittery, and Racetrack just to name a few.   
No new newsies, didn't feel like making any new ones up. Nor did I   
feel like putting myself in the story. I will put that off until   
later.  
  
Rating: no more than PG. I didnt feel like getting too offensive,   
you will know when I do!  
  
Disclaimer: I own Disney...I mean...kidding. (bad joke, I know) I   
don't own Newsies, nor any of the characters involved in the   
movie...although specs is hiding in my closet, does that count? :) I   
don't own Disney, and I certainly don't own anything of value. Don't   
sue me, I am not worth your time or money (hurray for high self-  
esteem!)  
  
back to the show!  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Specs tossed and turned all night with thoughts of his family   
swimming in his head. Finally, at around three, he got tired of   
trying to force himself to sleep and quietly went out the window,   
going up to the roof where he always seemed to find peace. He leaned   
over the ledge of the roof, loving the feeling of being above   
everyone else.   
  
He didn't know how long he had been up there, staring blankly at the   
buildings surrounding the lodging house, when he saw someone else   
climb out on the roof to join him.  
  
"Hey Specs, whatcha thinkin'?" came the voice of his kind but   
usually quiet friend.  
  
"Don't know, Jake. Just, well, about everythin', ya know?" Suddenly   
he decided he should get something off his chest before he went   
completely insane. "Jake, do ya remember ya mudda?" he asked, hoping   
his friend wouldn't ask too many questions and just answer him   
straight out. He hated when people would pry for additional   
information.  
  
"Yeah, course I do. She died when I was eight, so I 'member pretty   
good. She was dis real small lady, but real loud too. Not in a bad   
way, just...what's the woid?"  
  
"Boisterous," Specs said without looking away from the smoky New   
York skyline.  
  
"Yeah, bois...what you said. Why do ya wanna know about me mudda?   
Takin' a stroll down memory lane?" Jake said, chuckling to himself.   
  
"No, I don' have much ta remember. Me mudda's dead, because of me. I   
killed her." Specs tried desperately not to scream. Jake started to   
get uncomfortable. After all, his friend was standing at the edge of   
the roof talking about his dead mother. This couldn't be good.  
  
"Ya not gonna jump, are ya Specs?" Jake didn't know what else to   
say. It wasn't exactly easy to come up with something in a time like   
this, and it certainly didn't help that he was still half asleep.   
  
"No, Jake," Specs said, "I'm not gonna jump."  
  
"Good," he replied, breathing a sigh of relief. "Whatcha goin' on   
about then? I'm sure ya didn't kill her."  
  
"I as good as did. Me bein' born was too much for her. She lived   
long enough ta name me and then..." he trailed off, getting a   
prickly feeling in his throat and he didn't want to cry. After not   
crying in over six years, he didn't want to start now. Particularly   
in front anyone.   
  
"Specs, that ain't ya fault. A lotta guys in here got muddas that   
died like that, if not with them, then with one of their buddas or   
sistas. Sometimes, the mudda takes the kid with her. At least you'se   
still here. There was nuttin' ya could've done and there is no use   
in blamin' yaself."  
  
Jake's words of wisdom cheered Specs up a little. "We should call ya   
Shrink or somethin'. Ya good ta talk to."  
  
"Nah, after bein' in the same room when Snoddy got his nickname, ya   
kinda don' want one no more," he said, laughing. They sat up there   
for a little while longer, discussing news and whatnot until both   
got so tired they could barely keep their eyes open.   
  
Sneaking back into bed, Specs took of his glasses and hat, placed   
them on their usual place on the table beside him, and fell asleep   
almost immediately after his head touched the pillow. In a few hours   
Kloppman would be there to wake them up for another day of grueling   
work on the streets of Manhattan.   
  
He bought his usual 75 papers from Weasel and set out to his usual   
spot with his usual selling partners, nodding to Jake as he left as   
a brief thank you for cheering him up the night before. After   
looking at the headlines he decided on what angle to go for and   
started another day of screaming headlines at the top of his lungs.   
  
A few hours passed with Specs and his friends selling an occasional   
newspaper to those who passed by, the intense heat beating down on   
their sunburned necks. It was noon, he was starving, his feet hurt,   
and the boiling temperature was starting to make him nauseated.   
  
"Ya think we gots enough money to get some food or not? I think I'se   
gonna be sick if I don'," he said to Snoddy.   
  
"Oh, ya didn't seem so starved yesterday," he said, "what happened   
to ya meetin' us at Tibby's for suppa?" Specs had completely   
forgotten, feeling horrible about having stood up his friends.  
  
"Aw, Snoddy, I forgot..." Specs started in a deeply apologetic tone   
until Snoddy cut him off, laughing at him.  
  
"Specs, I didn' mean ta get ya all upset. If ya got someplace else   
to be, I undastand. Ya just seem kinda outa it, ya know?" Specs knew   
Snoddy meant well. Anytime anyone was in a bad mood, he thought   
giving them a hard time would make them better. "Look, if ya got   
someplace at be, then I ain't gonna hold it against ya."   
  
"It's just...I went ta see my sistas yestaday. They ain't doin' so   
well."  
  
"Anythin' I could do ta help? Are dey sick, or are dey slow on tha   
coin? Ya know, I could give ya a few pennies for them. If ya need   
help, I'se right here for ya, and the othas are too."  
  
"Thanks, Snoddy. That means a lot ta me, but it ain't anythin' like   
that," Specs said, eternally grateful for Snoddy's willingness to   
help. A few pennies may not have been much, but in the world of   
newsies, a few pennies could mean another day or two of survival.   
The fact that his friend was so willing to give up something he   
worked so hard for to help him out made Specs feel slightly prouder   
to be a newsie.   
  
It may have been hard work, and he may have been seen as a plague on   
the streets of New York by many who were financially superior, but   
he had friends. The newsies may have been low, but they made the   
best friends, because nothing on their friendship was based on   
money, it was based on helping each other get through each day.  
  
They decided to pitch in and get a plate with two roast beef   
sandwiches to split among the five boys. It may not have filled them   
up completely, but it got rid of the sickening biting feeling in   
their stomachs. A person can never get used to that feeling, the   
feeling of hunger. Luckily, however, if Specs didn't have enough   
money, his friends would help pay for something for him to eat, as   
he would easily do for them.  
  
They were soon out in the street again, selling the last half of   
their papers. It was dark by the time they were finished, and they   
decided to return to the lodging house, since they were too tired to   
do anything else.   
  
Skittery watched Specs on his bed, reading some book he had most   
likely borrowed from Kloppman's small collection. He worried about   
his friend, who had recently begun to look depressed and lost.   
Skittery, having the same sense of humor as Snoddy, decided the best   
way to deal with this problem was to create another one.  
  
Skittery jumped up, and before Specs knew it, he had stolen Specs's   
signature glasses and was running around the bunkroom.   
  
"Give dose back, Skittery!" Specs yelled, not finding it the least   
bit amusing.   
  
"Yeah, give dem back Skit. We don' need anudda blind newsie, ain't   
that right Blink?" came Dutchy, who was always willing to lend his   
opinion in an argument.  
  
"Hey!" was all Blink could think of to say.   
  
"Besides, whata we gonna do with a smart, blind newsie?" Snoddy   
asked.  
  
"I resent that. Just because I got glasses don' mean I'm smart,"   
Specs said, starting to feel better by having his thoughts of his   
family and work disrupted.   
  
"Yeah, look at Dutchy," came Skittery again, still holding Specs's   
glasses, "he got glasses and he's dumb as a rock." With this, the   
entire room erupted in laughter.  
  
"That ain't true," Specs started.  
  
"Thank you, Specs,"  
  
"He's dumb as a brick. There's a difference," Specs continued. By   
now, Blink and several others were on the floor, holding their   
stomachs. After a long day of selling papers, an argument like this   
was perfect entertainment. With that, Dutchy ran up, ready to "soak"   
Specs. Best friend or not, this was war.  
  
"You'se all mouth Specs," Dutchy said.  
  
"I don' talk half as much as you do, Dutch."  
  
"No, I mean, look at ya. You'se all mouth," it was Specs's turn to   
jump up ready to deck Dutchy.   
  
"That ain't true, Dutchy," Snoddy said.  
  
"Thank you, Snoddy," Specs replied, grateful someone was sticking up   
for him.   
  
"He's only half mouth. The rest of him's eyebrow," Snoddy finished.  
  
"At least I knows the difference between a tissue and a sleeve, ya   
leaky bastard," Specs retorted.  
  
"An what, four eyes? You'se perfect?" came another jab from   
Skittery.   
  
"Awww, what'sa matta, glum and dumb? Ya need a hug?" Specs said in a   
mock motherly tone.   
  
"Give me a hug, four eyes an I break ya glasses," he said, stepping   
as far away from Specs as he could.  
  
"Break me glasses an I break ya face," Specs shot back.  
  
"You set such a good example," came a voice from the other side of   
the room. Shocked by the sudden disruption, every boy turned his   
head to see who it was.   
  
"Well, if I knew ya were comin' Anja, I would've prepared," Specs   
replied, confused at the sight of his sister standing in the   
doorway. His attention then turned to the fact that his younger   
sisters were beside her, looking upset, the soot and dirt on their   
faces that came from working in a factory only increased to the sad   
look they had.   
  
"I need to talk to you." Specs nodded and headed to the window so   
they could talk on the roof. "Do you boys mind if I leave these two   
here while I talk to Specs?" The others shok their heads, looks of   
confusion and anxiety painted on their faces."   
  
As the two siblings reached the roof of the lodging house, Anja   
turned to her little brother, her eyes full of worry.   
  
"We have a problem," she said. A simple sentence that created a sick   
feeling in the pit of Specs's stomach. Whatever it was, this wasn't   
going to end well.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
MWAHAHAHA!!! Cliffhanger!!!! You all hate me now, don't you? Thanks   
to all of you who have read it so far! I feel so...warm and fuzzy!   
*erupts into a fit of girly giggles* Hope you liked this one. I felt   
it needed some comic relief, Specs being all down and all. Plus, I   
had to put a few things in there! I was dying to say some of those   
things! PLEASE REVIEW!!! Stretch likes reviews! 

****

Hotshot: The sexiness of Specs is something that encompasses us all!!! Yet, only a select few know its true power…hehehe.

****

Plaid Pajamas: THANK YOU SOOOOO MUCH!!! HUGS AND CHAMPAGNE FOR ALL!!! I hope I don't mess it up for you…or didn't already. 

****

Raven's Wing: I am scared to death of messing this one up, seeing as it is my first fic…EVER!!! Fan fics are like small children. You love them, put a lot of work into them, and hope that they won't get screwed up along the way! My words of wisdom.  
  
Stretch  



	4. Fables and Responsability

Title: Things Change

  
Characters: Specs mainly, but many of the newsies make appearances,   
Bumlets, Dutchy, Snoddy, Skittery, and Racetrack just to name a few.   
No new newsies, didn't feel like making any new ones up. Nor did I   
feel like putting myself in the story. I will put that off until   
later.  
  
Rating: no more than PG. I didnt feel like getting too offensive,   
you will know when I do!  
  
Disclaimer: I own Disney...I mean...kidding. (bad joke, I know) I   
don't own Newsies, nor any of the characters involved in the   
movie...although specs is hiding in my closet, does that count? :) I   
don't own Disney, and I certainly don't own anything of value. Don't   
sue me, I am not worth your time or money (hurray for high self-  
esteem!)  
  
back to the show!  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
"What's wrong?" Specs asked, trying not to sound like his stomach   
had dropped and his head was spinning.   
  
"Miette and Naeva are no longer able to work at the mill. They don't   
have any money to keep them in the lodging house, and I certainly   
don't make enough to keep the three of us there, even if there   
wasn't a problem with people lodging there who didn't work at the   
mill. Specs, I don't know what to do. All the children with families   
are being sent back home, and those who don't are being sent to   
orphanages."  
  
"Maybe I can talk to Kloppman, he might be able to help figure out   
something. There is nothing wrong with having newsgirls. Maybe he   
can get us the name of one of the girls lodging houses near by."  
  
"Misha, they aren't old enough to look after themselves. They   
haven't had any experience in the outside world, especially not as a   
newsie. How well do you think Naeva will do out there on her own?   
What about Miette? The only experience they have is with me, and   
even then they were in the factory or in the lodging house. They   
have no idea what the streets of Manhattan are like. They could get   
lost, or worse. Misha, they need to be taken care of, but not   
by...them," he flinched at the sound of his name. Specs hated when   
he heard it, it reminded him of his mother and of his Russian   
background. He knew she was serious, however, for that was the only   
time she was call him by it.   
  
"They might be able to stay with me. I will have to check with   
Kloppman and the rest of the guys, but I'm sure they won't have a   
problem with it. Maybe, after a while, we can find them someplace to   
work, or they will become used to the streets and they can live on   
their own. You never know."   
  
Anja agreed and they were soon back inside to talk it over with   
Kloppman. He signed the two girls in with no questions asked, and   
handed Specs some new linens to put on one of them empty bunks.   
  
As the two of them made their way back up to the bunkroom, they   
caught the sight of Miette and Naeva, huddled on the floor with   
Racetrack, Kid Blink, and Pie-Eater.   
  
"Another seven!" Race said, picked up several pennies off the floor.   
  
"Those ain't ya loaded ones, is they Race?" Specs asked, looking   
down at the dice his friend always carried with him.   
  
"Nah, what kinda friend would I be if I cheated ya sistas out   
money?" he said, not looking up from picking the coins up off the   
floor.   
  
"I have ta tell you'se guys something', Them two are stayin' with us   
for a little while. Anyone gots any problems with that?" After Specs   
saw there weren't going to be any signs of protest, he picked a bunk   
beside his for the two to sleep in. He didn't want them out of his   
sight,. Even in the lodging house full of his closest friends, Specs   
felt safer being able to keep an eye on them at all times.   
  
After fixing the bunk for his sisters, and helping them settle into   
their new home, he decided that this could be a good thing for   
himself as well as his sisters. He hadn't seen them for more than a   
few hours a week in years. The most he had ever seen them at one   
time was when he went to visit them in their aunt's house several   
years back. When their aunt couldn't take care of them anymore, Anja   
decided they could work with her at the mill. She was eighteen and   
old enough to watch over them at work, and they wouldn't have to   
suffer as their older siblings did.   
  
He looked at his pocket watch and saw it was almost ten. It was   
going to be odd looking after not only himself, but his younger   
sisters, but he figured he had better get used to it quick. After   
the usual "but I'm not tired yet" protesting that one usually   
expects to hear from children that age, he finally got them in bed,   
settled for their first night in the newsboys lodging house.   
  
"Story," Miette said simply. After getting a confused look from her   
brother she repeated her request. Finally it dawned on him...six   
year olds don't go to bed until they've been read to or something to   
that effect.   
  
"Uh...alright. Hold on a moment, I'll be right back." he said,   
running downstairs to look for Kloppman. He found him at his usual   
spot looking at the sign-in sheet on his desk.  
  
"Kloppman, do ya got any children's books? I forgot ya gotta read ta   
them 'fore they go ta sleep." The older man looked up and laughed at   
the poor, clueless young man before him.   
  
"Yes, I have a few things that might help." He went into the back   
room and came out moments later holding a relatively thick and   
neglected book. "Here," he said, handing it to Specs, "it's a book   
of fables. They might like them, and you never know until you try."  
  
"Thanks, Kloppman," he said, running back upstairs to his impatient   
younger sisters. He was soon settled beside them, reading several   
short stories that taught you why you shouldn't cheat, steal, lie,   
etc. Basically everything Specs and his friends did in their   
everyday lives. How was he going to explain to them why he would   
sometimes cheat people out of money, why he would lie about the   
headlines, and every other action he carried out.   
  
The last fable he read terrified him like nothing else. It was about   
a teacher who would constantly have problems with this young boy, so   
she went to have dinner with his parents to discuss the problem. She   
later found out that the parents were exactly like the child; the   
moral being that the apple doesn't fall far from the tree. Well, the   
young girls didn't have any parents to look up to, and he was the   
only one there at the moment. The idea that they were going to turn   
out just like him, living from day to day, sometimes having to cheat   
his way just to survive, kept him tossing and turning through the   
night.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Another part finished! It didn't have much action in it, but now the   
real fun begins!!! What? A newsie has to be responsible for someone   
besides himself? OMG!! Sorry, silly moment. Feel free to comment!

****

Hotshot: My fellow specs fiend! As far as that heart to heart with Jake goes, by the end of the story I want all the newsies to have spoken to him so that you also get to know a little more about them. 

****

Plaid Pajamas: AWWW!! I LOVE YA! Me a meanie? NOOOO…hehehe. Well, here is another chapter for you! The next one will be up soon…hopefully. Hope you liked it!  
  
Stretch 


	5. We Got Ya Back

Title: Things Change   
  
Characters: Specs mainly, but many of the newsies make appearances,   
Bumlets, Dutchy, Snoddy, Skittery, and Racetrack just to name a few.   
No new newsies, didn't feel like making any new ones up. Nor did I   
feel like putting myself in the story. I will put that off until   
later.  
  
Rating: no more than PG. I didnt feel like getting too offensive,   
you will know when I do!  
  
Disclaimer: I own Disney...I mean...kidding. (bad joke, I know) I   
don't own Newsies, nor any of the characters involved in the   
movie...although specs is hiding in my closet, does that count? :) I   
don't own Disney, and I certainly don't own anything of value. Don't   
sue me, I am not worth your time or money (hurray for high self-  
esteem!)  
  
back to the show!  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
"Come on, boys. Get up, get up," came Kloppman, like every other   
morning. Specs opened his bloodshot eyes, not able to make out a   
thing before him until he put on his glasses. He looked into the   
bunk beside his and saw it was empty. After a brief moment of the   
worst thoughts passing through his head, Itey leaned in to tell him   
his sisters were already in the bathroom, and were up before   
Kloppman came in.  
  
"Thanks, Itey. I don' wanna lose them on me foist day with 'em, ya   
know?" Itey smiled back and went into the bathroom to get ready like   
the rest of them.   
  
Specs was worried about how the others would act around the young   
girls, but when he saw Dutchy pick up Miette so she could look into   
the mirror, and Jack show Naeva where everything was, including   
things like shaving cream, his mind was set at ease for the moment.   
  
Kloppman soon called Specs downstairs while the others were fighting   
over the stalls. Still exhausted, and eyes still blurry despite the   
presence of his glasses, he slowly made his way downstairs to see   
what he wanted.   
  
"The young lady that was here last night, Anja right?" Specs   
nodded, "Well, she left these bags for you this morning. She said it   
was the little ones' things."  
  
Specs didn't even process the fact that Miette and Naeva didn't have   
any of their belongings with them. Thankful that at least his older   
sister had remembered, he carried the bags upstairs and proceeded to   
get himself and his sisters ready.   
  
After a while, everyone was set and Specs led his sisters to the   
distribution office along with the other newsboys. He purchased his   
regular amount of seventy-five papers, not wanting to get any extras   
until the girls had gotten used to the routine and were ready to   
sell their own papers.   
  
"Naeva, take these and stay with Miette. I don' want her ta get   
lost. Now, alls ya gotta do is, see the headline? I wantcha to yell   
it out as loud as ya can, so all of Manhattan hears ya. It's a good   
thing the headline is alright taday, otherwise I would have to help   
ya come up with new ones."  
  
"Come up with new ones?" Naeva looked up at her brother, confused   
about the last thing he had said. "How can you come up with new ones   
if the paper already has a headline?"   
  
"That's parta the life of a newie. We are, afta all, tryin' ta   
survive here, tryin' ta make a livin'. If the headlines ain't good,   
then we have ta make our own so we have money at the enda the day   
for food and ta give ta Kloppman for anotha night with a roof over   
our heads," Specs finished, hoping that he had cleared up the matter   
for his impressionable younger sisters for now.  
  
With that, they were at work, screaming the news at the top of their   
lungs. Specs soon realized that people had a soft spot for   
newsgirls, the younger the more pity they got. Comments ranging   
from, "aren't you adorable?" to "shouldn't you be inside right now?   
I am sure your parents are worried sick about you," reached Specs's   
ears. Especially when people caught sight of Miette. A malnourished   
six year old can rake in some easy money.   
  
By two all the papers were sold, giving Specs something he hadn't   
had in years- a free afternoon. He took this opportunity to show his   
younger sisters the streets of Manhattan, introducing them to the   
city they would soon have to roam everyday, sun up to sun down. He   
showed them the market place, tenements, and office buildings that   
were packed into the city around them.   
  
Upon entering Midtown, Miette looked up a tall, dilapidated building   
that appeared as if it had been around since New York was founded.  
  
"What's that?" she asked, her tiny voice disrupting Specs's   
thoughts, surprising him. He gazed to where she had her eyes and   
felt a chill run down his spine and his stomach drop.   
  
"That's the Manhattan Boy's Annex. It's an orphanage. The one I went   
ta, if ya wanna know. Come on, let's go. I don' like this place.   
Besides, don' you'se want some food?"  
  
He took the young girl's hand and escorted her and Naeva back in the   
direction of Tibby's, but not without a last look back at the one   
place that had given him so many nightmares for so many years.  
  
That night, after the girls were in bed and the lodging house had   
quieted down, Specs went up to the roof for a few moments of   
thought, unbeknownst to the fact that it was already occupied.   
  
A cloud of smoke escaped the young Italian's mouth before he spoke   
up. "Got somthin' on ya mind, four-eyes?" he asked. Racetrack had   
always been a good friend to Specs, but that didn't keep the two of   
them from harassing each other now and then.   
  
"A few things, if ya wanna know the truth."  
  
"Care ta share?" Race walked up to the taller newsie slowly,   
offering him a cigarette, to which specs politely declined. "And   
even if ya don' wanna, I'm gonna make ya, `cause I gots nothing ta   
do and ya look like ya got the weight of the woild on ya shoulders."  
  
Specs leaned against the brick wall around the roof, and stared off   
into the distance as he always did when in thought. He finally   
decided it best to share a bit of his troubles with his friend,   
knowing that he wouldn't be left alone until he did.  
  
"I passed by the orphanage taday. I just stared at it and thought   
of all the things that went wrong in there. Then I looked down at   
Miette and Naeva, and thought about what would happen ta them if I   
can't look afta them no more. I'm scared ta death of losin' them,   
Race. I am even more scared of what could happen ta them in one of   
them places. I don' want them ta live like I did. I don' want them   
to feel the pain of it."  
  
"They won't, Specs. Ya doin' a great job with them. Sometimes, betta   
than David does with Les. But ya have ta, seein' as ya gots two   
goils instead of a boy, and Les has been around here a while. Them   
two ain't ever been outside of ya sistas eye sight and here ya are,   
outta nowhere, forced ta take care of them. As long as ya keep doin'   
watcha doin', they'se gonna be just fine," Race finished, taking   
another puff off his cigar and joined Specs in looking out into the   
darkness that had claimed Manhattan. Racetrack didn't give advice   
too much, but when he did it was never bad. He could also see right   
through you if you happened to be lying or hiding something.  
  
"There's somthin' else, ain't there?" Race asked, turning to look at   
the tall brunette beside him.  
  
"What happens id they find me, Race? What happens if they saw me out   
one of them broken windows or somthin'? I don't wanna go back, Race.   
I don' wanna be alone like that again."  
  
"Look, Specs, no matta what happens, ta you or ya sistas, we got ya   
back. All of us."  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

YA!!!! CHAPTER FIVE BE FINISHED!!! CELEBRATE!!!! Alrighty, enough of that.

****

Hotshot: Chapter five, hot off the presses, and with PLENTY of Specs to boot. 

****

Plaid Pajamas: Well, if I'm such a meanie, how do you explain me putting up chapter 5??? Huh?? HUH???? Hehehe, I LOVE YA!!! Hehehe!!! Mother Nature and Jack Frost must be getting it on in New York, that explains it….I mean….uh….anyway, UPDATE SOON!!!!!!


	6. Chase and Anton

Alright, by now you know I don't own any of this but the characters   
you don't recognize from the movie. In this one, I use a smidge   
(yes, I did say smidge) of profanity so it gets a PG rating at   
least. Hmmm…that's…that's about it.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Smelling his cigar like some big-shot millionaire, he stepped across   
the "office" and glanced out the window out to the afternoon streets   
of Manhattan. Nothing special. Citizens crossing the street on their   
way to lunch or back to work. Suddenly, something caught his eye, or   
rather, someone. A familiar face in the crowd.   
  
"Darcie dear, would you mind coming in here for a moment?" Edmund   
Chase called to his wife. Almost immediately, the middle-aged woman   
appeared in the doorway. "Take a look outside and tell me if you   
recognize the street rat with the two urchins next to him."   
  
Crossing the room to see what her husband was talking about, she   
followed his instructions, and instantly turned back to him, a look   
of recognition on her face.   
  
"How could I forget him? That…BRAT…was sent to earth to torture me.   
If I get my hands on him, I just might kill him.  
  
"Oh Darcie dear, you don't mean that. Besides, that would give him   
the easy way out, and you don't want that, do you? No. There are   
things far worse than death, and I happen to know a few." They   
continued to look at the window, even after the young man had   
disappeared.   
*********************************************************************  
***  
"Look, Specs, no matta what happens, ta you or ya sistas, we got ya   
back. All of us," Race said, focusing his eyes on the night sky   
before him.  
  
"Yeah, I know. But, Race, ya shoulda seen that place. It looks like   
Hell on the outside, but when ya get inside, ya realize its much   
worse. Have you ever been there?"  
"Which orphanage ya talkin' `bout, Specs? I haven't been ta any of   
them, but I might know what ya talkin' about."  
  
"It's the boy's home near the market place, beside the old Anglican   
church. The people that watched us was a married couple, Edmund and   
Darcie Chase. What drove me insane `bout Edmund was he would nevah   
call his wife just by her name, it had to be 'Darcie dear'. They was   
English Protestants. I'se a Catholic Irish-Russian boy.   
Everythin' 'bout me seemed ta botha them. They would do just 'bout   
anythin' to ya if they didn' like somethin' 'bout ya. All of New   
Yawk's like this. Land of opportunity my ass. If ya ain't what they   
want ya ta be, ya ain't nothing'."  
  
"A bit angry, are we Specsy?" Race said, trying to lessen the anger   
that was surely building up inside his friend. All of the lodging   
boys were ticking time bombs, where the thought of their past could   
make an emotional wreckage out of any of them. Racetrack knew this,   
and knew the best way to lighten up the tall brunette would be to   
say a few light-hearted, witty remarks, but still listen to what he   
had to say.   
  
Specs chuckled to himself, "A bit, maybe. I don' really want ta   
talk `bout it right now. Why don' we…" A noise from below   
interrupted Specs, and he and Race looked over the ledge of the roof   
to see where it was coming from. Someone was trying to get into the   
lodging house, but, seeing as it was past curfew, the door was   
locked and the mysterious person wasn't getting anywhere.   
  
"Allo!" the person yelled up. Specs immediately recognized the voice   
and a smile spread across his face, making him forget the problem at   
hand.   
  
"Whatta ya doin' here, Anton? Go back ta Brooklyn where ya belong."   
Specs yelled down at his older brother. It had been weeks, even   
months, since he had seen Anton, and though he was worried what he   
wanted, the anxiety was nothing compared to his happiness at the   
site of his big brother.   
  
"Who cares what I'm doing, just tell me where the fire escape is."   
  
"And if I don'?"   
  
"I know how to hurt you, kid. Don't test me."  
  
"It's on the other side of the building, beside the big window."  
  
"Thank you," Anton yelled back, before walking to the other side of   
the lodging house. It didn't take long for him to reach the roof and   
to be face to face with his younger brother, after not having seen   
him in a long while.   
  
"Anton, this is Racetrack. Race, this is me bruddaa, Anton." The   
two boys shook hands politely before the elder of the two turned   
back to his younger brother, giving him a quick hug before they   
dived into conversation.  
  
"Anja stopped by Brooklyn today to tell me that the little ones were   
over here with you," Anton started, in a slight Irish accent he had   
obtained from living with his Irish father for so long, and then   
moving to the largely Irish populated Brooklyn. "She said she wanted   
me to check and see how you were doing with them. We all know they   
can sometimes be a bit much."  
  
"They'se fine. I've had no problems with them all day. They'se   
asleep in the bunkroom if ya want ta see them."  
  
The three boys went though the window into the dimly lit bunkroom   
where Specs had been sleeping almost every night for six years.   
Anton, however, had never been inside the boys' lodging house, and   
was slowly looking around, taking it in gradually.   
  
"Guys, this is me brudda Anton. Anton, this is Kid Blink, Jack,   
Mush…" Specs continued naming off the newsies, as they looked up and   
waved at the man standing before them. The first thing they noticed   
about Anton, was he looked exactly like Specs, but without the   
glasses, and his hair was shorter. Besides that, it was hard to tell   
them apart. He had a kind face and smiled politely as all Specs's   
friends were introduced to him."  
  
Afterwards, the two brothers sat down on Specs's bed, as they looked   
beside them to the younger girls sleeping quietly in the other bunk.  
  
"Are you okay, Mish? You look kind of worn out or something." Anton   
said quietly.   
  
"I'm just a little worried. Well…I'm really worried. We took a   
stroll around Manhattan today and guess where we ended up," Specs   
said, using the less harsh accent he had whenever addressing his   
older siblings.   
  
"The boy's annex, right?"  
  
"Is it that easy to tell?"  
  
"Well, that's the only place that seems to have that depressing   
effect on you."  
  
"I looked up at that damn hellhole and…"  
  
"Sledi za bazarom!" Anton whispered sharply at his younger brother   
motioning towards the young girls nearby. Anton only spoke Russian   
when he was angry, which usually happened around Specs.   
  
"Sorry, you know how I get,"  
  
"Yeah, just don't worry about it. Look, you have good friends here   
with you, and if you need anything, you can always hunt me down in   
Brooklyn. I have to go. I'll see you later, alright."  
  
Specs nodded as Anton headed back out the window and down the fire   
escape. He barely noticed Racetrack crossing the room until he was   
right in front of him.   
  
"Heya, Race."  
  
"Heya, Specs. What did that mean?"  
  
"What did what mean?"  
  
"That thing ya brudda said, that sledy za…something."  
  
"It's Russian, it means watch your tongue. He don' like the foul   
mouth I got from hangin' `round you people." Specs and Race laughed   
lightly before they each settled in their own bunks for the night.   
It had been a long and interesting day for Specs, and tomorrow   
wasn't looking any better. He looked beside him, to his sisters   
quietly resting, smiled to himself, and closed his eyes for the   
short slumber he had before work.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~   
Part 6 done, yes…this is going to be a long fic. Could you tell???   
YES? Well, fine then. Hope you liked it, this one was basically just   
introducing the "villains" (ooo, that's such a sneaky woid) and the   
older brother.

****

Hotshot: HEHEHE!!! Falling out of chairs is fun…well…as long as the carpet's soft. Yes!!! We do know the truth about Race…a bit more about Race than I would like to know. As far as the roof thing goes, say it with me…"it's a Specs thing".

****

Plaid Pajamas: TELL YOU WHAT HAPPENED??? What? Me actually clarify why is so touchy??? What kind of author would I be if I did that. Oh, yeah….a good one. 

****

Fantasy: I LOVE YA!!! YOU KNOW I DO!!! Yeah, I'm kind of sick of the romances too. TAKE ROUNDHOUSE??? NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!   
  
  
Stretch  



	7. Hunger

Yeah,   
Its been a while since I posted one of these chapters, but here   
is the seventh installment. Not too long. Well...here!  
  
Title: Things Change  
  
Author: Stretch  
  
Rating: G...unless otherwise specified. Mostly for language if it   
gets higher than G.   
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
"He works here, I'm sure of it," Edmund said to the young man before   
him.  
  
"Really? And what makes ya sure of that?" came the younger one, his   
eyes piercing mischievously.   
  
"Could you just check?" Edmund was getting annoyed with the young   
man's games.   
  
"I could, but it might cost ya."  
  
"How much?" Edmund opened his wallet and began searching through   
it. "I don't care what it costs, I want that boy found."  
  
"Sure thing, what's his name?"  
  
"Misha Patrick, but he goes by Specs."  
**************************************************************  
"THE BWONX ON FIRE!!!!" the tiny girl screamed at the top of her   
lungs.  
  
"No, Miette, ya supposed ta say headlines they gonna believe." Specs   
said, pulling his youngest sister aside.   
  
"Like this, Miette, look. QUEENS TENEMENT IN FLAMES! ENTIRE BULDING   
SMOKIN'! COULD YOUR HOME BE NEXT? GET YA PAPES HERE!" Naeva yelled,   
a crowd of people walking up to buy some copies.   
  
"Anja's gonna kill me when she sees how bad I've corrupted you two,"   
Specs laughed, lighting a cigarette.   
  
"What's `corrupt' mean?" Miette asked, her big eyes focused intently   
on her brother.   
  
"It means he's messed us up," Naeva said simply.  
  
"Then again, I think you was already kinda messed up, Naeva" Specs   
said, laughing at older of the two girls.   
  
"Oh, kiss my-"  
  
"Don't finish that sentence if ya wanna live ta see tomorrow," Specs   
snapped, his eyes narrowing on his younger sister. He took out his   
pocket watch to see that it was well passed noon. "Well, that   
explains why me stomach's talkin' ta me. Why don't we go get some   
chow?" With that, the three siblings made their way to Tibby's for a   
bit of lunch.   
  
"Let's see, how much do I have here?" Specs said to himself, pulling   
out the money he had made so far. Taking into consideration the fact   
that he had to save some f his money for papers the next day, he   
counted a small percentage of his profits and found he only had a   
small amount to spend on lunch for three people.   
  
"Uh…one roast beef sandwich and some coleslaw please," he said,   
looking up at the waiter.   
  
"Will that be all, sir?"  
  
"Uh…yeah. That's it." Specs finished. He knew that it wasn't enough   
to feed three people, even with the size the two girls were.   
Sacrifice was a part of life for all newsies, and Specs had to deal   
without lunch as he saw his sisters eat the small sandwich and   
portion of slaw.   
  
"Don't you want some?" Naeva asked, looking across the table at her   
brother.   
  
"Nah, I ain't feelin' much like eatin'. You two finish it off." He   
was lying of course, which he was reminded of each time his stomach   
grumbled in hunger. In a few moments they returned out into the   
scorching streets of Manhattan to finish their job.  
**************************************************************  
"I need to buy more papes, cause I can't deal with feedin' three   
people on the profits of seventy-fiv papes. I could barely feed   
myself on seventy-five papes. What the hell am I gonna do, Dutchy?"   
Specs said, leaning over the ledge of the lodging house roof as he   
often did whenever he had a problem. Dutchy pulled out a foil   
wrapped object and pushed it towards his best-friend.   
  
"Ya look like ya need this," Dutchy said. Specs opened it and found   
a small sandwich left over from Tibby's.   
  
"How did ya know?"  
  
"I didn' see ya eat at the restaurant, and ya get this weird look in   
ya eyes when ya hungry. I was afraid ya were gonna go crazy or   
somthin'. In a way, it was more for the well-bein' of the lodging   
house. I don' want anyone ta die tonight." Specs laughed as he   
slowly consumed the small bit of food Dutchy had managed to save for   
him.   
  
Suddenly, Miette and Naeva were pushed out onto the roof by   
Racetrack.   
  
"There's someone here looking' for ya," Race said anxiously,   
ushering the two little girls towards their brother.   
  
"What's wrong with their bein' someone here for him?" Dutchy asked   
Race, thoroughly confused as he saw the apprehensive look on the   
small Italian's face.   
  
"'Cause I got a feelin' that it ain't a good thing, his name is   
Chase. Edmund I think he said."  
  
Specs's eyes widened as he looked between Racetrack and his sisters,   
pulling the two girls closer to him, as if shielding them from some   
wild beast.   
  
"How did he know I was here?" Specs began sweating from nerves as he   
became suddenly nauseated.   
  
"I don' know, but I suggest ya hide and keep ya mouth shut," Race   
said, pulling Dutchy inside through the window, leaving Specs there   
with a million thoughts in his head and none of them were looking   
promising.   
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
See, that wasn't too long, was it? It was? Well, BAH! Yeah...HOPE   
YOU LIKED IT!!!  
Stretch  



End file.
